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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714119">Hair and long lifespans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The New Jersey Chronicles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hair Brushing, New Jersey, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Troll Jim Lake Jr., but also lots of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:41:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I brush it enough, Toby, it’s fine!”</p><p>“C’mon man, where’s your hairbrush?” </p><p>“Tobes - you are not brushing my hair.”</p><p>He smiled playfully, putting on the puppy dog eyes that had been perfected since the first time he had tried to get extra pie from his Nana. “It’ll be fun - like a slumber party!”</p><p>Jim stared at him as if he had gone mad. “Slumber party? Really?” He sighed, and let his face fall into his hands. “Ugh, fine - it’s over on the desk.”</p><p>-----------</p><p>Or,  Toby comes to New Jersey Trollmarket to see his best friend, and ends up furthering his hairdressing capabilities whilst also offering solid advice.<br/>Basically just these two bros hanging out and relaxing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Toby Domzalski &amp; Jim Lake Jr.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The New Jersey Chronicles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hair and long lifespans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so please pretend that the events of 3 below and wizards never happenned, and this takes place the summer that the trolls leave for New Jersey, at the New Jersey Trollmarket</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Tis I, citizens of New Trollmarket!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tobias?" Blinky asked in a startled voice, staring at the human child in his doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Toby!" Jim sprinted across the room, and then skidded on his knees across the floor of Blinky's cave to tackle his shorter friend in a hug. "Tobes, I-I thought you wouldn't get here until next week!" He laughed, squeezing Toby's shoulders and burying his face in his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim hadn’t changed all that much since the last time he saw him, except for the lack of armour which had been replaced by a light blue T-shirt and grey sweatpants. Over the summer his hair had grown a little longer too, long enough to be tied up into a bun if he wanted. The strands that had swept over his forehead in a way similar to his original human haircut were now gone, grown long enough to be tucked behind his pointed ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Awkwardly, he patted Jim's back, feeling cool stone beneath a T shirt. "We fixed the gyre a little sooner than expected, and I thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>'hey, why not go surprise my best friend in the whole wide world</span>
  </em>
  <span>?'"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim stiffened under his touch almost imperceptibly, not-quite-flesh muscles of his shoulders freezing under Toby’s fingertips, still knelt on the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though he was still held prisoner by gangly half-troll limbs, Toby managed to twist his head to regard Blinky, who was stacking books on a shelf. Three of his eyes were focused on titles on leather spines, whilst the other three unsubtly watched the reunited friends with warmth. A smile quirked the corners of his lips around jutting teeth and uneven teeth.  “Also Blinky, ARRGH’s still by the gyre trying not to throw up, if you wanted to see him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t miss how Blinky’s face suddenly lit up, and he tried to leave the cave as fast as possible whilst also maintaining some level of decorum. “I’ll just be on my way then, boys,” He edged through the doorway, trying not to hit his surrogate son who was still hugging his best friend. “-and don’t forget to tidy your room, Master Jim!” He called out hastily over his shoulder, already paces away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a while, he stood up, leaving a lingering hand on Toby's shoulder. An awkward smile sat on his face, cheeks flushed a lilac purple. Blue eyes didn’t quite meet Toby’s, as if uncertain of what would happen if they did. "You, uh, wanna check out my room? I haven't got anything to play videogames on, but we can just chill for a bit - I'm pretty sure you'll want to sit down after that gyre ride, anyways."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silently, Toby agreed with him. His stomach was still recuperating from the recent gyre ride which had flipped it around a thousand times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby walked further into the cave, brushing against Jim's arm as he gawked at Blinky's new library. It was unfinished, and haphazardly organised, but was coming to resemble his old one. "I didn't come all this way to play videogames with you, Jimbo - I'm here to check out New Trollmarket with my bestie!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim shyly looked down.  "Okay, Tobes,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Toby marched towards a doorway at the other end of the room, pointed finger in front of him. "To the Jim-Cave!" He boomed, savouring Jim’s snicker that echoes behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim almost facepalmed. "That's- wrong way, Toby,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I knew that!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim's room was fairly large, carved out of a grey stone which left scratched marks from tools all over the walls. On an old wooden bed frame that had been haggled for at a thrift store in Hoboken, Jim's mattress was placed, layered with wool blankets and pillows he snuggled with at night. They were messily scrunched up and creased, some heavy and handmade by thick trollish fingers, and others knitted by man-made machines. Orange crystals jutted out from the walls at random intervals, creating a warm and calming glow. There were no windows, but on the walls were photos and posters from Arcadia, including the vespa poster Jim had had since he was seven. A little torn and ripped around the edges, sure, but important nonetheless. What would have been an uncomfortable floor had been covered by a blue IKEA rug, plush and thick under Toby's bare feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(His shoes were piled outside Jim's room, in case they tracked dirt.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A desk was pushed against the wall, littered with a variety of objects such as half-eaten forks, dog-eared books, useless knick knacks and rocks. Secured with scotch-tape, photos of Jim with his friends were attached to the wall above the desk - one of which was the recognisable picture of Jim and Toby at a laser tag game, on Toby's eighth birthday. Back then, they had been the same height, so Toby's arm had easily wrapped around Jim's shoulders, both of them smiling, but the black-haired boy caught in a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, simpler times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Presently, Toby sat on the edge of Jim's bed, the half troll cross-legged on the floor below as he scrolled through photos on a phone. Toby had compiled a photographic collection of Arcadia's reconstruction, including pictures of trolls and humans working together - what few trolls had stayed behind, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim squinted at a picture in disbelief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that Mary hugging </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eli</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I thought she was like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>allergic </span>
  </em>
  <span>to nerds or something,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby leaned over Jim's shoulder to get a better look, resting a hand on the back of his neck. fingers slipped into soft black hair. He chuckled. "Oh yeah - weird times make for weird friendships, I guess."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jim swiped over to the next photo, his finger made a raspy sound of stone swiping on glass. He smiled sadly, and bit his lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Toby was well versed in spotting the signs of Sad Jimbo. Maybe showing pictures of his old home was a bad idea?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped leaning over Jim’s shoulder, finding it hard to disentangle his fingers which had slipped into the blue-black mass of hair. It didn’t look it, but the thick hair was knotted and tangled, unbrushed. Toby would bet his geology collection that all Jim had done was run his hand through it occasionally in the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No offence, dude, but have you been brushing your hair?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He jerked his head away and twisted his head around so that he could look at Toby. Black eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just feels a little knotty, is all - I dunno if trolls have their own version of lice, but you’ve got to take care of this stuff,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I brush it enough, Toby, it’s fine!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon man, where’s your hairbrush?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tobes - you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> brushing my hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled playfully, putting on the puppy dog eyes that had been perfected since the first time he had tried to get extra pie from his Nana. “It’ll be fun - like a slumber party!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim stared at him as if he had gone mad. “Slumber party? Really?” He sighed, and let his face fall into his hands. “Ugh, fine - it’s over on the desk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Giddily, Toby jumped off the bed and rushed to the rustic desk, searching through Jim’s organised mess until he found a green plastic hairbrush, already containing a few dark hairs that snaked between the bristles. Two or three hairbands were wrapped around the handle, but they were probably Claire’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> From the corner of his eye, he could see Jim run a hand over his horn, pulling down on its dark tip. He leaned back against his bed, folding his legs into a loose cross-legged position. It was a very un-Trollhunterish pose, comfortably slumped on the floor in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby, on the other hand, did not have the internal temperature of a troll, and had resorted to wearing a large and oversized hoodie to keep himself warm - it had belonged to his Dad, and had the name of a University fading on the navy-blue material. He sat behind Jim on the bed, so that he was above his head, with a short leg dangling next to each side of Jim’s shoulders. With a practiced movement, he flipped the hairbrush in the air and caught it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim ran a hand through his hair, tugging out some of the larger tangles. There was a hint of mirth when he spoke to his friend, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Okay, please try not to hurt me,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby gasped in an exaggeration of offence. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hurt you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jim, you know I’ve been doing my Nana’s hair for her for years! I’m practically an expert on long hair, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Tobes.” He winced as his head was tugged backwards by the first stroke, catching on his scruff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ ‘m not lying - I’ve done ARRGH’s a few times and he likes it!” With a hard tug, Toby roughly pulled through a particularly tough knot in his scruff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow!” Jim yelped, shoulders bunching and hand flying to the back of his neck, as if to protect his hair from Toby’s wrath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, this is why you need to brush your hair more often - it’s not as short as it used to be,” He tried to maneuver the brush around the bases of Jim’s horns, swiping his long bangs backwards so that they followed the rest of the hair, slowly becoming softer and untangled. It still attempted to flick and turn outwards in a way similar to Blinky’s hair, except longer and thicker. Underneath Toby’s brushes, the muscles in Jim’s neck relaxed, head bowed low and pliant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a minute or so, it was silent, except for Jim’s deep exhales.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby figured now was as good a time as ever to ask why his friend had an air of stress and anxiousness about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s got you all mopey?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mopey?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m not mopey, Tobes,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesss</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are,” He said playfully, pulling out the ‘yes’ and elongating it like a verbal string.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Am not,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Am not,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ar-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wait a sec you’re just trying to divert the conversation aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim sighed. “Look, I’m fine, really. Just a little tired’s all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure dude? Cause you know I’m not gonna judge you for anything.” He shrugged. “Well, unless what’s bothering you is really freaky in which case I might bother you a little bit, but, other than that - safe space.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-It’s just something that Merlin said to me yesterday when I was helping him build his new workshop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby mentally pictured the image of punching the old wizard repeatedly in the face.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Couldn’t he just give Jim a break already?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did the stinky man say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim rolled with the nickname. “It was just something he offhandedly mentioned, you know, just something about lifespans - Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> lifespan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby stopped brushing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was Jim not going to live for much longer? God, he was going to beat the ever loving crap out of that old-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-what did he say?” He tried to ask in a calm voice, unwinding one of the hair bands from the brush handle and slipping it onto his wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim drummed his fingers on one of his knees, in the rhythm of a heartbeat. “He said that I’m gonna live a long time - like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>centuries</span>
  </em>
  <span> long.” His voice hiccuped uncertainly. “Not like as long as a troll, but that’s still a really long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a good thing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No, of course not!” He exclaimed roughly, before lowering his voice a bit. “It means that I’ll...that I’m going to live a lot longer than my family, Tobes.” Pulling his knees up so that they reached his chest, he seemed to curl in on himself, allowing Toby to see the top of his head, though he had stopped brushing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It means I’m going to live a lot longer than </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Mom, a-and Claire.” He whispered, wetness in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toby couldn’t see it from where he sat above Jim, but a warm tear rolled from his eye, splashing on the back of his stone hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brush was placed on the bed, so that tentatively, Toby could rest a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m-I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t think of it that way.” He admitted. “And yeah, that really sucks, but focusing on how someone you love will inevitably die means you can’t focus on making good memories with them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim stayed silent, so Toby slid off the bed and sat on the floor next to him, feeling a soft rug underneath his legs. “And if you don’t make any good memories with them, then you won’t remember them when they’re gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quiet, weak and hiccuping laugh escaped him, and he patted Toby’s knee. “Didn’t know you could be so wise, Tobes,” His voice was a little raspy, and his blue eyes a little wet, but a sad smile played about his mouth around poking tusks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Eh - I try my best.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the hairbrush. “So, you still want me to finish doing your hair?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Toby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Voila!” With a ping, the hair band snapped into place, securing Jim’s dark blue hair in a messy bun at the back of his head, level with the tips of his horns. (You would not believe, how hard it is to pull hair around horns.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tenderly, Jim’s three-fingered hand touched the bun, fingers lightly brushing where his strands had been bunched together. He smiled and picked up a hand-held mirror in front of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking at his reflection the past few months had...not been easy. So much was similar, but twice as much had changed. The two horns that curled over his head and swept upwards into flicks looked as though they had gotten bigger, or at least a little chunkier since he’d last seen them. Except for the hair on his face, it had all been tied back, leaving only a few straggling hairs that flopped onto his forehead. Without the fluffy mass flicking out every which way from his head, there wasn’t anything around his pointed ears, making them so much more noticeable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he felt a pang of sadness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then he remembered who had done his hair, lovingly brushed it and tied it up gently so that it didn’t pull. Twisting his head to the side, he admired the messy mass of a bun that drooped downwards, how the hairs at the back of his head transitioned from being tied to the bun and being a part of his scruff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It actually looked quite nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Tobes - It’s great.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is part of a series which I'll probably add to when I next feel like writing a drabble about the Trollhunters Trio, so if you liked this, subscribe to the series, not this work.</p><p>(Also I wrote this at like 2am so please don't judge)</p><p>PLLLEEEEAAAASSSSEEEEE comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed!!!!!!</p><p>I REPEAT : COMMENT, BUTTSNACKS</p><p>I love to hear what people think!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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